Plague Bearers
by Dertt
Summary: August 1998: A string of grisly murders in one of Raccoon's neighboring cities leads the city's own STARS to a remote, long-abandoned hospital. The investigation is assisted by Jill Valentine. New and improved version! Reviews appreciated.
1. Punctuality is Key

The television set made a faint crackling sound, like a group of dry twigs snapping in the distance. It was a familiar sound to Ross McWard, as it occurred whenever the old twenty-four inch set inexplicably lost reception, and ever since he quit teaching English, he'd spent much more time in front of that TV than he'd care to admit.

Distracted by sundry paperwork, several moments passed before it even registered with him that he was sitting across from a dead set, listening to the unrelenting buzz as the screen displayed a solid wall of flickering salt-and-pepper grain.

He held the papers out in front of him and released his hold on them. A good number of the files slipped away before the pile landed on the coffee table and drifted to the carpet surrounding the table. Only half of them had made it to their intended destination. Trying not to step on any of his paperwork, Ross stood up and maneuvered around the table to turn off the television.  
As the fuzz on the screen dropped into blackness, he made a mental note to find the remote control. He crouched down and started gathering the fallen documents when he heard the doorknob to his bedroom jiggle behind him.

_Finally. _Jill Valentine, for whatever reason, had shown up at his apartment earlier wearing civilian clothing only to slide past him and ask where she could go to change into her S.T.A.R.S. uniform. Why she needed to wear her uniform in the first place was lost on him. After all, this was an excursion for the Ferret City officers, so a Raccoon City officer like her needn't concern herself with such formalities. Besides, he thought that she looked _really_ hot in the outfit she was already wearing, an ocean blue button-up top that hugged the contours of her torso closely, with tight black casual pants and an assortment of accessories that he didn't really understand the purpose of.

Ross finished bringing his paperwork back into alignment and placed the stack squarely on the table, rising to see Jill standing at the end of his hallway, doing her best impression of a runway model at a "law enforcement chic" fashion show.

"I have to say Jill," he said, holding his hands up so that they formed a box through which he surveyed her uniform, "I'm digging the, uh, shoulder pads."

She slouched a bit and shot him a dodgy glance. Noticing her expression, he shrugged abashedly and motioned for her to continue. She looked into the hallway mirror and situated her signature beret atop her head.

"You know, I've never actually seen another S.T.A.R.S. beret." Ross intoned. He had already resumed his position on the sofa, and he was leaning over the back of it to look at her. "Where did you even get it?"

"I've actually had the beret for a while, and I just got a S.T.A.R.S patch sewn to it when I joined up." Jill informed him. She made her way down the hall and lifted the papers off of the coffee table, tucking them into a file folder. Without warning, Ross sprang up and snatched the beret from her head.  
"Hey!" she exclaimed, putting the folder in her bag to focus on retrieving her headgear.

"How do I look?" Ross inquired.

Jill had to smile at how despicable he did in fact look. Her beret was obviously too small for him, so rather than wearing it, he was just sort of standing there with it situated awkwardly atop his head as it threatened to slide off the side and drop to the floor. Tufts of his dark auburn hair stuck out haphazardly from under it.  
"Like a doofus." She responded before grabbing the beret and putting it back in its rightful spot over her own crown.  
"Anyway," she continued, "it doesn't match your uniform."

Looking at his uniform, though, she mused that it could do with some personalization. As it was, it was rather unremarkable, standard gear which he had predictably chosen in a dull array of earthtones. It consisted simply of the standard tactical vest, deep green with very limited modifications, worn over a brown shirt bearing the Ferret City S.T.A.R.S logo, with basic tan canvas pants and a pair of combat boots which had certainly seen better days.

_Would he look good with a properly-fitted beret?_ Jill wondered. _…nah._

"Now come on," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Didn't you say that you'd need to be there for the secondary briefing by 6:30?"

"Yeah," Ross replied.

"Well it's 6:27."

"Shit."

* * *

It was approximately 6:47 by the time Jill and Ross crossed the threshold of the S.T.A.R.S. headquarters within the Ferret City police station.  
Ross held the door open, allowing Jill to move through before zipping past her, weaving around the empty desks of the Echo Team members to procure an extra chair.  
She barely had time to notice the impatient stares of the punctual officers before he returned, folding chair in hand. He gingerly placed the folding chair adjacent to his desk and slid out his own chair, only for Jill to take advantage of this and usurp his seat.

"You're such a gentleman." She was whispering, but the sarcasm in her tone was still palpable.

"Who says chivalry is dead?" he played along as he moved around to sit in the chair he had originally brought for her.

Someone near the front of the room cleared their throat in an unnecessarily loud fashion. Jill reflexively snapped to attention, but out of her peripheral vision, she could see that Ross was busy compulsively reorganizing his own workstation.

"McWard!" the man at the front of the room barked.  
Jill nudged Ross, perhaps a bit harder than she intended, so that he momentarily looked up—not to the front, but at her.  
"Professor!" the man called again.  
The title seemed to command Ross's attention more than his own surname, and he jerked upright in his seat, eyes glued to the front.  
Once he was sure that he had successfully rerouted Ross's focus to where it properly should be, the man in front proceeded.  
"Once more, you're late."

"I know, captain, sir. It won't happen again." Ross apologized.  
The captain studied the young woman sitting in Ross's desk. "Can I trust him on this, Officer Valentine?"

Jill shrugged. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"Well, then, you two get your shit together." the captain carried on after taking a moment to contemplate Jill's unenthused shrugging, "We're already preparing to board the chopper."  
With this statement, all members of Ferret City's Delta Team stood up and began their trek to the helipad on the roof. All of them except for Carrick Wilkins, who remained standing at his own desk, balling up a sheet of paper. Ross eyed his fellow officer curiously. Suddenly, Carrick launched the paper ball at Ross's face. It was deflected by the lens of his glasses and bounced into Jill's hands.  
She cautiously unfolded the paper and laid it flat on the desk to view it.

* * *

  
**MISSION BRIEFING  
August 6****th****, 1998**

At 01100 hours 15 minutes, Echo Team will perform a flyover of the Koehler Lake area before landing on the Saint Adrian's helipad and performing reconnaissance of the building and the surrounding area.**  
**

At 01900 hours 15 minutes, Delta Team's UH-1 is expected to touch down in the Koehler Woods. The pilot has been given the coordinates of a clearing. After Delta Team surveys the area, the teams will rendezvous in front of Saint Adrian's.

From there, you will await further instructions.

Jill Valentine of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. will accompany Delta Team by request of Captain Duval.

Jill finished reading to find Carrick gone, and Ross tapping his foot anxiously as if he'd been waiting for an hour rather than thirty seconds. He pushed her bag across the desk.  
"Alright, alright," she groaned, shoving him along as she shuffled out from behind his desk.

* * *

"Sir, radio communication with Echo Team has been lost." Carrick informed the captain, fidgeting with his radio while simultaneously inspecting his Walther P38. Carrick had always been the most brilliant multi-tasker the team had ever seen. Conversely, he also had one of the shortest attention spans.  
To most members of Ferret's S.T.A.R.S, it was a complete mystery how Carrick had accumulated such a vast knowledge of technology all while wrestling with his limited ability to focus, but this merely stood as a further testament to his multi-tasking talents.

Next to Carrick sat close-combat expert and all-around good guy Andrew Bouchard. A tall, burly character with a unique sense of humor, Andrew was liked—though perhaps not _respected_—by everyone in the Ferret Police Department.

Carrick persisted fidgeting with the radio for a moment as the captain, standing amidst both rows of seats, watched him expectantly. A tremendous burst of static rang out through the helicopter's interior.  
"Have we regained communication?" the captain asked eagerly.

Just then, a tinny, nearly indiscernible voice came through the radio, clips of words audible between contained explosions of harsh noise.

"Delt… …am… …ank god yo… …ere ar… …stran… …creatu… …ere." the device blared.

Ross, who was shocked enough by the desperation in the speaker's tone, was even more surprised by Jill's hand latching onto his own.

He looked over his shoulder at her to find her looking back, a look of intense apprehension across her face.  
For a few seconds he remained transfixed by the brightness and the depth of her eyes before the concerned voice of Erin Alderberg, the team's pilot, pulled him out of the trance.

"Captain Duval?" Erin addressed the captain.

"Yeeeeeesss?" he answered slowly.

"The coordinates you gave us, sir…" she swallowed. "…there's no clearing in sight."

_

* * *

  
More canon characters will join the cast eventually. Reviews are greatly appreciated.  
_


	2. Something in the Trees

Captain Stanley Duval was at a loss.  
He'd checked every map, every birds-eye photograph of the area that the FPD had at their disposal, and all of them showed a spacious opening in the brush located directly below their current position.

Erin turned away from the controls to face the captain, her widened eyes brimming with confusion and anxiety. She had always trusted him, and he had never done or said anything to incur her doubtfulness. His calm and collected manner—the air about him that said he knew exactly what he was doing—that had allowed her to keep cool on so many missions… it wasn't there anymore. A quick look around the cabin showed that the entire team was similarly disquieted, a sight which did very little to help.

Fully aware of the panic threatening to grip his crew, Stan's head began a frantic search for an explanation. He opened his mouth, preparing to say something, but all he could manage was a weak "Ummmm." He looked up from a spot on the floor and saw that Erin had returned her attention to the controls. Not only that, but it appeared that she was preparing to make an emergency landing.  
_What the hell is she doing? _

A deafening _clang_ rang out, seeming to suggest that they'd struck something. The chopper was starting to shake with steadily increasing vehemence. Everyone in the cabin was on the edge of a full-on freak-out. Ross held Jill's hand tightly. As the tremors continued, she leaned in and threw her arms around him. Normally, he certainly wouldn't complain about such a thing, but in such a desperate situation, it seemed so unlike Jill that it only fuelled his apprehension, something which he struggled to repress for Jill's sake.  
Stephen Frisk, the rookie, was repeating the phrase "Holy shit, we're going to die" with consistent frequency, as if he was saying a regular self-help type mantra. As it was, he was helping no one.

The chant grew louder and louder until it was suddenly drowned out by a second clanging noise, and the chopper ceased to shake. Erin offered the captain a thumbs-up, though her hand was visibly trembling. The captain's gaze moved from her raised thumb up to her face, which was matted with a nervous grin, and he was able to deduce that Erin had found sufficient enough space to perform an emergency landing maneuver.  
He passed the thumbs up on to the rest of the team. It seemed to do very little to alleviate the tension, but they were able to correctly interpret it as a signal to move out. Jill slowly withdrew her arms from around Ross as the door slid open, and hastily filed past him to exit.

Stepping into the forest from the interior of the helicopter was like stepping onto another planet; the whirring of the blades replaced by the chirping of crickets, the steady stream of cool air replaced by a blanket of humidity. Almost immediately after her own boots hit the ground, Ross hopped out, followed by Carrick, who stayed by the chopper to distribute equipment.

Ross, scanning the area ahead of him, couldn't help but notice that Jill had already drawn her gun. The Beretta sat smugly in her right hand as her left hand gripped a flashlight, her right arm crossed over her left.  
Something about the look on her face told him that he may want to consider readying his own weapon.

His hand hit a pocket on the green tactical vest, fumbling for a moment before producing a speedloader. With his other hand, he retrieved his revolver and swung out the cylinder to load it.

There was a rustling noise behind him as he finished dealing with his gun. Something was moving through the grass, and it was closing in at a startling speed.  
Ross spun around, gun pointed outwards, to see Carrick, wearing an incredulous expression as he looked down the barrel of the gun.

Ross lowered the weapon as Jill strode up beside him.  
"Sorry, dude." He apologized to Carrick.

"It's quite alright," Carrick assured him, "…remind me again why you carry a revolver? Do you know how many advantages a semi has compared to that thing?"

"Ammo capacity, for one thing." Jill chimed in.

"Reload time," Carrick added.

Jill brought her hand across Ross's chest just to spin the cylinder of the M66. "Plus… doesn't it jam?"

"If you bury it, maybe." Ross said flatly, grabbing Jill's arm and pulling it from in front of him to around his shoulders. Jill retracted it and resumed her cautionary stance.

The unmistakable noise of a shotgun being cocked came from the direction of the copter, and the three looked over to see Andrew strolling up, quite casually, toting a SPAS-12.

"Shotguns beat everything," he said upon reaching them. "Say, where's the rest of Delta?"

The radio affixed to Ross's waist erupted into static for a moment, causing everyone in the small group to jump. After a second, the noise dropped out and the distinctive voice of Captain Duval came through.

"Professor, I'm breaking the team into two groups. As pointman, you'll be expected to lead your current group." Another moment of white noise followed before "And Officer Valentine?"

Jill looked directly at Ross's belt as if the radio itself was addressing her.

"You'll be expected to keep McWard in check. There's a fog coming in, so try to stay close. The hospital is due north. Radio me when you get there and we'll establish a rendezvous point."

Ross pressed the button without detaching the device from his belt.  
"Yes, sir."

"Hear that, Ross?"  
Jill's voice was laden with an almost uncharacteristically mischievous quality.

"Yeah." he responded, waving his hand forward to instruct the others to begin marching.

"So you know," Andrew spoke up as he moved up beside Ross, "if you're bad, she has permission to spank you."

"What?" Carrick exclaimed. "All I heard was 'spank'."

Jill, who had somehow gotten a meter or so ahead of the rest of the group, stopped abruptly, holding her hand up to instruct the others to follow her example.

All around them, there was a mysterious rustling. The leaves above them broke into violent tremors, and an eerie whispering sound spread through the trees. Everyone looked up when suddenly—

Nothing happened.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." Carrick stated before continuing to walk forward. As he passed Jill, she grabbed his arm and he stopped again. Dark shapes dropping from the trees, hitting the ground noiselessly. One of the shapes expanded, taking on a roughly humanoid form. The rest followed.

Andrew leaned over and whispered "…Ninjas."

As ridiculous as that sounded, it was the most likely explanation any of them, including Jill, could devise. The group stood in silence, waiting for the forest ninjas to make the first move.

A terrible screeching, like a rusty door hinge, resounded through the forest, and one of the figures began to advance.  
How human it appeared seemed to correlate with the speed at which it moved: as it accelerated, it began to move like an ape, and then like a large cat.

The creature was no closer than three meters to the officers when it leapt at them, limbs outstretched, tearing through the shroud of fog and landing directly in front of Jill.

Ross couldn't help but be fascinated by the creature. Apparently sensing his gaze on it, the creature jumped to its left, plopping down a few feet in front of Ross.

The beast seemed to be studying him in return.  
It looked something like a hybrid of a snake and a predatory cat, only with elongated front limbs which it used to balance itself, not unlike a chimpanzee. It cocked its head, issuing a steady clicking noise from its throat.  
The creature sprang backwards a bit, emitting another shrill cry, and bared its fangs menacingly. It lifted its forelimbs and tensed its hind legs, poised to pounce on Ross, but he merely continued examining it.

_BLAM! _

A bullet caught the beast just below the jaw. Dark blood gushed from the resulting hole, but the thing still stood.  
Ross looked to Jill, wide-eyed. She discharged another round from her Beretta, this time striking the monster near its left eye. With a pained squeal, the creature slumped onto the damp forest ground, twitching slightly.  
Catching sight of their fallen comrade, the other figures charged.

One exploded forth from the fog, coming right at Jill.  
Without thinking, Ross stepped behind her, balancing his arm on her shoulder, and fired.  
The .357 round met its mark, entering the creature's opened mouth and tearing through the back of its skull.

Just as one fell, however, three more emerged.

"Run." Ross muttered.  
No one needed to be told twice.


End file.
